The Red Forest
by Ka no Megami
Summary: Arthur returned home one day to find his whole world flipped upside down, left with no one in this world except a kind hearted hunter named Alfred to care for him and keep the wolves at bay.


**[A/N]: I wrote this a while back, now I'm just finally getting the chance to post. Little Red Riding Hood!Arthur x Human!Wolf!Alfred. Enjoy the fic!**

Arthur walked forward, balancing precariously on the slippery crossing stones forming a bridge across the small river running through the dense forest. He clutched his travel basket closer on the last rock. It'd be just his bloody luck to fall and lose his bundle of goods to the rivers current. He most certainly didn't feel like chasing down every fresh picked fruit and vegetable stashed at the bottom of the wicker basket and definitely didn't feel like getting beaten by his brothers if he lost any to the great lake not a hundred meters north of where he stood now.

He wanted to take a break, sit down by the river edge, massage his aching feet and soak them in the water. Maybe eat an apple or two to quiet his rumbling stomach. He hadn't eaten since mid-morning, just before he left for town, his brothers waving him off with a sarcastic, _"don't get eaten by a bear!" _Alas, he couldn't. If he had any intentions of making it home before dark, and knowing his brother's they is probably waiting for him to come home and start supper which they always do no matter how much they complain about his cooking. For all their brute strength and skill from farm handling, some days they reminded him of baby birds waiting in a nest to be feed with their mouths open. Tomorrow he'd have to make the journey to the lakes edge and fish for their dinner for later in the week. He mentally reminded himself as he kept walking. There were only so many days he could stand lamb.

The summer heat beat down on the sun baked dirt as the cicada's hum engulfed the woods. The unrelenting heat hot spell refused to cool even as dusk fell, bathing Arthurs path in soft, water colored blush of pink and orange and the tired sun shifted toward the erubescent west, handing over reign of the sky to viridescent moon. Arthur stared at the iridescent scene through the billowy canopy of the lush, leafy tree tops. He'd been shopping for the last few hours, stocking up on food and supplies for the next couple weeks until they earned enough money from the sheep herd for another trip.

Arthur stopped just outside the break in the trees that signaled his near arrival to their modest home in the valley. He shuffled around the baskets content, moving apples and bushels of tea herbs before pulling out a yard of brilliant red velvet. A smile grew on his face. Arthur had seen the bolt of fabric nearly three months ago, hidden in the back of the fabric merchant's stall behind a horde of loud prints and wildly colored cloths. Goodness, were those truly the style these days?

Normally he'd turn his nose up at such a loud and bombastic eyesores and keep on walking, but this silky fabric caught his eye. The bolt had been peeking out of the corner of an old musky trunk shoved up against the back wall and half-buried. It was the most beautiful fabric Arthur had ever seen and it cost as such. The merchant wouldn't budge on the price. He knew it would probably be the only thing he'd sell all week. Hell, probably all month by the look of the place, but Arthur wanted it. He wanted it like nothing else and it was the only thing he'd ever asked his dirt poor family for. It had earned him a sharp smack upside the head as well.

"_What do you think we're made of? We can't afford effeminate crap like that!" Ian had said. His thick Scottish brogue muddling every word as it grew thicker with anger. "We gotta live, not dress you up like some rich bastards fuck toy! Who the hell are you trying to impress?" He left not long after that to smoke on a cigarette, leaving the rest of his brothers to look down at him and shake their heads. He picked himself up and dusted himself off as they all wandered away, completely use to this sort of scene of 'brotherly affection'. It took a small eternity, much longer than he'd thought to save up enough money to buy the beautiful fabric. He had to save up all the change from each shopping trip and thriftily save on certain items. It was the only time his brother trusted him with money; all of them being too busy with farm hand chores to do such 'womanly' things like make the trek to shop in town._

Arthur ran his fingers over the soft texture, before stuffing it the big pocket of his forest green, hand me down cloak. He'd sew a new one out the fabric and hide it from his brother's. It would his and his alone, his one and only private pleasure.

Suddenly, a loud crash came from the direction of his home followed by the unmistakably ear splitting sound of a gun fired. Arthur broke into a sprint, running up the dirt path. He stopped dead in his tracks. Blood pooled in front of entrance door, seeping out lazily from underneath the wood. Color drained from his face. There were footsteps coming from inside, shuffling around before growing quiet once more.

Arthur dropped the basket and tried to steady himself as he took the bow off his shoulder and removed an arrow from the quiver hidden beneath the traveling cloak and notched it. He took a breath and burst through the door the door, nearly tripping. The arrow slipped from his fingers. His heart seized. A grisly scene of carnage was unwrapped before him. Connor was the first to greet him. He lay slumped against the wall next to the door, his green eyes opened wide, staring straight at the floor. His face distorted in pain and streaked with red, blood was still dripping from his open mouth onto the floor. Arthur couldn't tear his eyes away. He'd never seen something like this before. Connor never looked pained. He was always laughing, even if it was at others expense. Bite marks littered his throat, ripping and puncturing the veins and muscle beneath, claw slashes destroyed his knuckles.

Arthur turned away quickly, before he emptied his breakfast on the floor, his stomach lurching painfully. Tears welled up, stinging his eyes. Bloody paw prints stained the floor, leading away toward the living room. Arthur got up and inched his way closer. Rhymes laid face down on his stomach, sprawled out on the kitchen floor where their little family table, now smashed against the wall, splintered and riddled with claw marks, use to sit, his blood still seeping slowly out around him from the gashes on his back through his knit sweater. Arthur made that sweater years ago, it was one of the first things he'd ever knit. Rhymes wore it on cold work mornings even if it looked like shit with all of the off stitching.

Finally, he spotted Ian. Blood splatted the room from top to bottom, even reaching the ceiling, the little rug he'd knit last winter that his brothers had always made fun of him for was saturated in red. Ian had been thrown against one of the chairs in the living room. A sharp piece of wood from the old rocking chair their late father use to take his evening smoke in was impaled through his side and sticking out his chest, his button up and suspender pants destroyed with blood stains and claw marks. His Adam's throat was gone; the bone's supporting his neck snapped leaving his head to hang at an odd angle. His face was covered in so much blood it was hard to tell were his shock of red hair began and face ended. His green eyes, the ones that mirrored his own, looked as cold and dead as a fish.

Arthur wanted to laugh, and probably would have if he weren't sobbing in agony right now. On any normal day he'd scold his oldest brother for treating his clothes like rags and refuse to even try and mend them, then like clockwork, they'd be cleaned and sat in his little room where he'd thread a needle and find the right patch before starting to play doctor Frankenstein and stitching up the frayed mess. Ian would never say thank you, but he did complain about the workmanship or the mismatching thread color either and that was as close to a kind word from him as possible.

He didn't bother trying to control his tears. There was no one to call him unmanly or a baby for them. Arthur rocked slightly back and forth amidst the carnage, his heart seizing. Sobs and hiccups spilled from his throat as tear rained down his red face. It was no secret that he didn't like his brother's, their personalities were horrible and they've been his own personal tormentors for as long as he could remember. He's openly told them he hates them and had been told back in turn, but he did mean it! He loved them, damn it. They were his only family. They were brother and brothers' fight, but they never stop caring, even with all the jeers and teasing and punches thrown back and forth.

.

The back door creaked open behind him and a growl came from behind him. Arthur whipped around, instantly aware there was a very powerful and ferocious predator on the loose. The wolf was massive; it's dark fur black as coal and eyes a glowing yellow. The bloody creature barred its fangs and licked its chops at Arthur. He scrambled for his bow, but the wolf lunged, snapping at his fingers. The beast's fangs bit into his knuckles, but just barely drawing blood. The wolf opened its massive jaw before- BANG!

What he saw next stopped him in his panic stricken tracks. The giant beast whimpered and fell. In the doorway stood a tall man with blonde hair the color of golden wheat and sun kissed skin a rifle in his hands with smoke still coming out of the barrel. His gentle blue eyes dropped to Arthur, whose fingers were still tangled in the bow's string. The stranger stepped forward carefully and Arthur slid back raising his weapon in a flash. "Who are you? What are you doing here?" He demanded through gritted teeth. His face must have been a mess, his tear still hadn't stopped yet, but he'd be damned if he would be taken advantage of right now. If there's one thing his brothers thoroughly beat into it was to be stubbornly tough in the face of danger.

"Calm down. I'm Alfred F. Jones, a hunter. I was passing by on the main road when I heard all the commotion." The stranger said, raising his hands in surrender before slowing setting down the flint lock rifle. He kept eye contact with him the entire time, and placed it against the wall. He slowly moved forward, approaching the small blonde like as if he were a frightened rabbit rather than an experienced hunter ready to let an arrow fly into his jugular. He stood right in front of him now. "I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner." He said soothingly. "I came here as quickly as I could, but I wasn't much help." His gentle hand lowered Arthurs bow as the other choked on a fresh sob.

He swallowed thickly, trying to find his voice. "Th-then what was that first gun shot for if-if..." He was wavering; the string went slack and the arrow feel to the floor. The man put down his arms and gestured to the back door. Arthur stumbled around the giant carcass, trying not to turn and look at his brothers' bodies. The sight was already seared into his memory. He didn't know if he could stand another look with spiraling into hysterias. Arthur instead focused on the wheat fields as dusk fell on them. He normally took tea out here and read around this time after supper. In the tree lines he could have sworn he saw something move. "I tried to fire a shot at it, but I missed and disappeared in the woods." He could see where bloody paw prints marred some of the large stone marks put out to keep the sheep from coming too close to the house.

That's what his brothers' lives boiled down to in the end. He realized. He fell to his knees, nothing more than a mix of blood in the bloody paw print of a predator. Hot tears streamed endlessly down his face as curled up on himself, crossing his arms over his legs and burying his face. Alfred leaned down until he was close to eye level and put his arms around him and started rubbing soothing circles around on his back. Arthur clutched at the kind man's shirt and cried his eyes out, sobbing until his voice was hoarse and quieted. There weren't many tears left to be shed when Alfred finally leaned back a bit. He lifted Arthur's chin and whipped away the tears with the back of his hand. They still smelled like gun powder.

Arthur pushed away slightly just enough to peer up at Alfred. He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to stand. "I'm fine now." Alfred grabbed his undamaged hand and squeezed, helping him up. "I couldn't save your brothers from the wolf, but I promise to keep you safe. I'll protect you. I won't let this happen again." He picked him up from the ground, keeping an arm around his shoulders. "We should go. There still might be wolves in the area. He pressed Arthur against his side, fitting him there as they left. "I'll bandage up that hand for you." Arthur cast a heavy look back at the house. "I'll come back tomorrow morning and try to clean things up. You'll have to show me where to dig, though." He lightly hinted, leaving out the word grave. Arthur nodded and allowed himself to be moved. Alfred dropped his protective arm to Arthur's waist. "It's alright now." His grip tightened. Arthurs face was buried in the man's shirt and didn't see the wolfish grin that spread across his lips, showing his large K-9's. "It's all gonna be okay."

**[A/N]: Uh oh, Arthur :(, your hero might not be such a hero after all. I'm probably gonna try and write another chapter to this, but that's probably it. I don't see this being a long grand old story. So, yeah. Anyway, Reviews are loves, so if you love Review!**


End file.
